


A Detective's Deductions

by Fandoms_Everywhere_United



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Merry Christmas!, Sweet, Tiny angst (sorry), happy christmas!, present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8865901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Everywhere_United/pseuds/Fandoms_Everywhere_United
Summary: A light story between John and Sherlock in the Christmas season.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is a Christmas present for my really good friend (my usual editor, which is why this hasn't been edited so it's probably horrible grammar-wise and the story is crap. But anyway), I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Especially you!

_Two days._

The thought flashed through Sherlock’s mind quickly, so quickly in fact, that it might never have even happened. But it had happened, that much was sure, because he was thinking about it even now.

_What importance do two days have on my life?_ He wondered, _Why must I pay attention to this infernal clock that is always in the back of my mind?_

He heard the familiar jingle of keys as John entered the building. Closing the door against the cold of the London streets, he started his trek up the stairs to their shared apartment.

_The door opened three seconds ago, depending on his stamina the apartment door should open in approximately seventeen seconds._

“Oh, John dear.” _Intervention of Mrs. Hudson, postpone timer indefinitely._ “Before you go, will you take these up for Sherlock?” _Topic of discussion: objects intended for me. Relevance: none, discard._

The steps on the stairs continued, the stairs creaking slightly under John’s weight. _Continue countdown, fourteen seconds._

Sherlock frowned from where he sat as the door opened. _Ten seconds. Why was it inaccurate? Caffeine? Unlikely. Excitement? Likely, but unprecedented. Why?_ Two days. _What significance? Unknown, file for later._

“Sherlock?” _John. Anxious. Why?_ Two days. _Need more input for an accurate deduction._

“Here, John.” _Authoritative. Even voice. No deductions can be discerned from my voice. Good._

“Mrs. Hudson wanted me to give these to you.” A bag was placed on the floor. _Deleted content: conversation. Regret: none, continue. Fabric: Muffled impact on table. Items with considerable weight. Tumble: round items. Hollow sound: water weight. Items most likely: fruit._ “They’re apples, don’t know why she wanted me to bring them to you.” _Deduction: correct. Attempt at small talk. Ignore? No._

“I requested them for an experiment.” Sherlock rose from his seat, moving towards the table that the apples had been set on and upended the bag. The apples rolled across the table, but John was able to catch the only one that was in danger of hitting the ground.

_Eight apples. Split once. Half-cold, half-warm. Split again, groups within: Bruised, unbruised._ Sherlock took four of the apples, two from each group and dropped them so they landed on the floor from equal heights. _Need: four bags. Material? Matters not, only consistency._

 

He then grabbed four paper bags, and put a bruised-cold apple in one, a bruised-warm, a cold, and a warm in separate bags as John looked on in confusion. Once Sherlock seemed adequately pleased he bent outside the window and picked up a package tightly wrapped in white paper.

 

He unwrapped it as he grabbed a knife from the side drawer. A slab of flesh was inside the package. “What the hell?” _Confusion? Yes. Disgust? Yes. Bafflement? Yes. Explanation needed? None._ “Why did you just have that out on the windowsill?” _Answer? Not necessary, ignore._

 

Sherlock began to slice the flesh into eight even pieces, placing four in the bags and pairing the other four up with the remaining apples. John seemed to have lost interest in trying to bleed answers from him and had moved to his chair where he draped his coat across the back of his chair.

 

The black haired man moved quickly and efficiently, placing the four paired items on the outside sill and the remaining in a secluded corner of the house. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing this time?” _Indulge? Yes._

 

“I am conducting an experiment to determine how the decomposition of flesh compares to the decomposition of fruit and what influence they might have on each other. I am also testing what various conditions such as the climate or bruising might influence the decomposition.” Sherlock moved to his chair, crossing his legs beneath him as he peered over his templed fingers. “What else would I be doing?”

 

The other man stared in shock for a few moments before responding. “Why am I surprised by you any more?” _Eyes are slightly crinkled; trying not to smile. Posture; at ease. Expectant. Why?_ Two days. _What is the meaning? Information deleted. Answer? No, rhetorical question._

 

They sat for several minutes in a comfortable silence that enveloped the room, neither felt the need to speak until John rose to close the window that Sherlock had left open when he placed his ‘experiments’ outside. “Do you have no regard for your own health, Sherlock?” John questioned, shaking his head.

 

“Quite the opposite in fact.” _Immediate response. Expresses eagerness. Why?_ Two days. _Continue to stall further questions._ “I care for my immune system in every way I can. For example: I always clean up my experiments no matter what they entailed, I use three blankets in the winter and two in the summer to stay warm, I tend to avoid situations involving gunfire and explosions-”

 

“Alright, alright.” John interrupted before Sherlock could go into one of his never-ending tangent, “I get it, you stay healthy as best you can, even without my health.” _Anger? No, something else. Endearment? Yes. Why?_ Two days. _What is its meaning?_

 

“John, might I ask you something?” _Weakness. Vulnerability. Never let others know what you don’t._

 

“Of course, why wouldn’t you?” _Rhetorical question don’t answer. Curiosity. Continue._

 

“What is happening in two days time?” John looked blankly at Sherlock, trying to figure out if it was a trick question or not. _He knows. He’s withholding information from me._

 

Finally John cautiously said, “Christmas…?” _Of course. That’s what’s in two days. Why is it so important? There must be more than that._

 

Sherlock nodded his head assuredly, signaling the end of the conversation between the two. John sat in his chair once more, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. The room was suddenly filled with an awkward air that had no way of escape because the window had just been closed. It was stifling and soon enough, the taller of the two was trembling from the atmosphere.

 

“So…” John started, his voice cutting through the interposing air like a whip-crack. “As you hopefully remember, Christmas is in two days, and well, I was hoping… Well- Wondering really-” his words cut off as he exhaled a puff of air. _Anxious. Why?_ Two days. _Christmas so what?_ “I was wondering that seeing as our two-year anniversary since I first asked you out is also in two days and since it falls on Christmas, the lines are going to be incredibly long for any place anywhere… “ He trailed off again. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out for our anniversary dinner tonight rather than on Christmas day.” He finally got out.

 

 _Oh, the anniversary. That’s right. How could I have forgotten? His induction was spot-on, the reservation lists would be at least twenty people long for Christmas day, getting a table would be incredibly difficult._ He nodded in agreeance. “Of course, tonight would be much better than Christmas Day. When should we leave?”

 

John smiled, “An hour, I’ve already made the reservation to ensure that we have our own seats.” _Excitement. He’s still anxious. Elation._ “I take it your… experiments… won’t need that much monitoring?”

 

“Absolutely not. How must I dress for you?” _Too much relation to him. Emotion snuck into my diction._

 

“Just as you are.” _Curious._

 

\-----

 

John wouldn’t even tell the cabbie where they were going with Sherlock within earshot. He had him cover his eyes with a scarf to keep it a suitable surprise.

 

When they finally arrived at the restaurant, Sherlock was escorted out onto the snowy street where John undid his blindfold with a flourish, only to wrap it around Sherlock’s neck once more, his cold fingers stealing warmth from the other’s neck in the process.

 

In front of the couple was a typical run of the mill building that had been fixed with a larger kitchen. The front was barely lit more than the street lights that illuminated the avenue. There were two tables that stood outside with snow piled high on top of them to attest to their recent use, and the chairs weren’t much better.

 

 _The first place we went on a date._ Not much had changed since they had been there, the atmosphere was still warm and inviting, and the people were still friendly and open. Sherlock even found himself retaining a smile at the familiarity of it all.

 

“Well, come on then.” _John. Excited. Follow? Of course._

 

John led them inside where he talked under his breath to the hostess, and she smiled at Sherlock before grabbing two menus and leading them to a secluded table where Sherlock could watch the people as they walked past. John accepted the menus with practiced ease and handed one to his date as the hostess walked away.

 

The black haired man accepted with a nod and forced his eyes to scan the paper that he had memorized and refused to delete. _Fish and Chips, 12 pounds._ He had decided even before he looked at the menu, but he still refrained from setting the laminated paper down until John had done so himself.

 

After a few minutes the hostess came back, saying that her name was Constance asking if she could get them anything to drink. They both ordered water to each other’s surprise and assured her that they were ready to order. To both their embarrassment, they ordered the same thing, but the hostess only laughed along.

 

While they waited for their food, they exchanged small talk and minor pleasantries while Sherlock watched the people out the window determining what type of people they were from their gait or appearance. John spent the entire time watching Sherlock, paying attention to all of his facial expressions as he thought through different scenarios of the people’s backstory, but the black haired man didn’t see any of it.

 

Eventually their food arrived, and conversation sprung up again, although it stuck to small ‘How have you been?’ and ‘What case did you recently solve?’. As time went on, and their dinner was almost finished, John began to get increasingly more anxious. By the time Constance had picked up their plates and asked if they wanted dessert, he was a roiling mess, jittery and stuttering through their conversation.

 

“S-so, Sh-Sh-Sherlock-” John started, his hands wouldn’t stay still. _He’s clearly anxious. Something is wrong._ “We’ve… know each other quite a long time and I-I-I I’m not sure that this relationship is where it needs to be-” _Oh. I see. He’s breaking up with me._

 

“It’s okay, John.” Sherlock interrupted, “I’ll save you the trouble.” _Just pick up my coat and walk out. Don’t look back. Wipe the tears from your eyes and stand strong so he can only see your back. My God, why does it hurt this much to walk away? How did I allow myself to get this attached?_

 

“Sh-Sherlock? Where are you going? What are you doing?” John grabbed his jacket quickly as he ran after his lover who was already out the door. _Don’t make this harder than it has to be, John. Haven’t you hurt me enough?_

 

John caught up with him as he was passing a park, under a streetlamp. “What are you doing? Why would you chose tonight of all nights?” Sherlock accused.

 

“What are you talking about? I’m so confused.”

 

“You’ve been anxious all day, stuttering at dinner, ordering the same thing I did, you’re shaking, and you could barely start talking to me after we finished. I’m not an idiot, you know that full well.” Sherlock spat, acid dripping from his voice. “I’ll just save you the trouble of breaking up with me and leave now before you can do any more damage.”

 

“What? Sherlock, no you have it all wrong!” John pleaded

 

“What could I possibly have wrong?” Sherlock was screaming at this point, the tears that he had wanted to hold back freely falling from his face. _Idiot. Why did you let him get so close? This could only have ended badly._

 

“I-I wasn’t breaking up with you.” John whispered, his gaze falling to the street.

 

“Then what were you doing?” Sherlock questioned.

 

“I-I was… I was going to… I was going to do this.” John pulled out a small box from his coat pocket and lowering himself to one knee. “I-I-I was wondering if y-you wanted to m-marry me…?”

 

Sherlock didn’t answer for a good long while. He only stared down at John and the box that he held in his hand.

 

“Would you please say something? Anything? Yell at me, scream at me! Anything is better than you just staring down at me.”

 

“I will.” Sherlock whispered, his voice barely carried through the air.

 

“What was that?” John asked.

 

“I said ‘I will.’” Sherlock responded. “I will. I’ll marry you.” 

 

A smile broke out across John’s face and he rose from his position on the street, “Thank you. I love you. I love you so much.”

 

“And I, you.” With Sherlock’s final words, he brought John’s face up to his own and connected their lips. There they stood, standing under the light of a streetlamp, smiling like idiots as John slowly slid a golden band onto Sherlock’s finger.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to you guys!!! I should have a few more stories coming out soon, so be on the look out for those as well as my other gift: _A Skater's Confession_. Hope you liked it J!!!


End file.
